Magicked
by Scriblerian
Summary: Sirius/OC. AU - Kate's a Muggle. Sirius is a wizard. She's lost her faith. He's lost his heart. Forced to share the gloom of Grimmauld Place, can they heal each other and mend what's been broken? Or will the magic dissolve before it begins...
1. Companionable Ills

Disclaimer: Nope. Definitely do not own Harry Potter. That belongs entirely to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended with this story.

Summary: It was the very worst case of 'wrong place, wrong time.' After a dangerous and completely accidental encounter thrusts Kate Williams into the wizarding world, she's forced to take refuge at one Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The only problem is, she's very much a Muggle. And a certain dark-haired Marauder is dead set on loathing her right from the start. This is a story of two damaged hearts coming together to mend the other. This is a story of belief in the impossible. There's no such thing as magic? _Are you watching closely?_ Good. Now look again.

**AN: Woo-hoo, new story time! As usual there are a few vital things you should know first off:**

**True to my fashion, I am going to take canon, mash it up into a little ball, and throw it right over my figurative shoulder. This story is definitely AU, folks. However, there will be no OOC-ness, or at least no **_**intentional**_** OOC-ness. I just want to play around with the wonderful characters Jo gave us and place them in different situations than we've seen before. :D Canon is great, don't get me wrong, but it's been done. And it's been done well. Thus concludes my logic of venturing once more into AU land. **

**So, what exactly does that mean, you ask? I'll keep it simple. **

**Time frame: Post-Final Battle. Voldemort is dead. Good guys won. All is (sort of) well.**

**Sirius: Not dead. Pardoned. Still not the wizarding world's favorite person (more on that to come).**

**Remus, Tonks, and a few others the late hour is preventing me from remembering: Also not dead. You're psyched, admit it. **

**The Order: Alive and well (I clearly have issues with death). Just because Voldie's dead doesn't mean there aren't still baddies out there. More on that later too.**

**Basically, I'm going to largely ignore/gloss over a lot of what happened in the last book. It's not really integral to the story. Gah, I feel like I'm rambling. Just trust me. Everything'll make sense. :D I swears. As always, questions are welcome and reviews are absolutely cherished. Read on, lovelies!**

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**Magicked** – _v. to magic – to be influenced, affected, and/or changed by the art of magic; to believe that which was once thought impossible, often used in reference to Muggles who have been introduced to the wizarding world; dazzled, enchanted, spellbound._

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"Five minutes 'till show time folks!"

The grating voice of the stagehand filled the miniscule space behind the theater, and Kate Williams heaved her tenth tired sigh of the day at the sound. Dark eyes were lifted to the mirror before her one last time, and a grimace took over the girl's expression at the sight of her nearly unrecognizable reflection. Not only did she feel like a clown (which, really, was bad enough), she was entirely certain she _looked_ like one.

Heavy stage makeup encased her features like a mask. Pink rouge covered fair skin, lips were stained a deep red, dark liner and false lashes weighed down sad brown eyes. Drowning eyes. And to top it all off, the icing on the ridiculous cake, a platinum blonde wig, every strand of gleaming gold held stiffly in place with pounds of hairspray. It covered her natural, not quite as ostentatious or brilliant, chestnut brown locks and weighed her down oppressively.

And for what felt like the millionth time, Kate wondered how the hell she ever got here. Wondered how her life had suddenly become so very meaningless and fake. Fake as the mask she donned every time she stepped out onto the stage.

But what else could she expect? She was a magician's _assistant_, of all the inane, pathetic things. Everything about the job was fake. The trap doors, the smiles sent in the audience's direction, her hair…even the magic itself. Clever tricks and illusions, sleights of the hand…that's all it was. Nothing more.

But it wasn't just the job, she knew. It certainly added to the emptiness that was her life, but it wasn't everything. Briefly, a handsome, grinning face flashed through her thoughts, but she pushed the image away as quickly as it had come. This act of immediate dismissal was familiar to her by now.

_Michael…_

The sandy-haired man often shoved his way into her mind whenever she let it wander too long. Every feature was distinguishable in that instant when she allowed his image to invade her thoughts. The angled face, the perfectly formed lips, clean shaven chin, the golden hair falling angelically across piercing blue eyes filled with love…

_Love for someone else. Love for __**her**__..._

And that's when the dream would end. That's when she would wrench herself out of her dangerous, crushing thoughts, but never quite quick enough to prevent the icy cold feeling of dejection from gripping her heart.

Or what was left of it, at least.

Quickly she busied herself with last minute touch-ups to her painted face, though it was more for show than anything else. A half-hearted attempt to distract her mind from dwelling on the past. Her old life. The life she'd run away from. This was supposed to be her fresh start. Her clean slate. This was supposed to help her forget.

Too bad the magic tricks she helped perform couldn't rid her of the painful memories. Too bad a simple "_abracadabra_" couldn't wash away her heartache. A small, humorless laugh escaped her at these musings, and her eyes met those of the stranger in the mirror before her one last time.

"There's no such thing as magic," she whispered. The sound, soft and low, was barely audible over the announcer's booming voice.

It was show time.

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It was an odd contrast, the bright, golden light of the sun shining down upon the desolate and decrepit London street.

A gloom hung in the crisp air even with the afternoon rays illuminating the buildings below. A stray cat ran out from behind a trashcan in one of the many alleyways. A dog barked a steady rhythm somewhere off in the distance. Not a soul was to be seen enjoying the daylight. The street lined with grimy tenements was deserted.

But among those grimy tenements, hidden where no untrained eye could see, resided the headquarters of the wizarding coalition know as the Order. Within its walls, however, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was almost as gloomy and deserted as the street outside. And from a bedroom located deep within the once ostentatious abode, Sirius Black was awakening from the last vestiges of a disturbed slumber.

Sweat covered the chest and forehead of the man as he struggled against the images in his mind. Disheveled black hair covered most of his face—a result of the tossing and turning that had plagued him during the night. And when his gray eyes finally snapped open, they were as haunted and filled with despair as they had been all those years ago on the night that had changed his life forever…

A short, frustrated growl erupted from his throat as he sat up, interrupting the thought before it could fully form. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the large bed, willing the images the thought had brought with it from his mind. This act of immediate dismissal was familiar to him by now. It was easier to push the dark things aside.

_Easy,_ he thought with a humorless snort. _Right._

He ran two hands through his dark hair and rested his elbows on his knees as he sat on the edge of his bed. The bedroom was dark, though it was nearing noon outside. Sirius wondered and not for the first time whether it was worth getting out of bed at all. It wasn't as though he had important duties to attend to.

Another derisive snort escaped from him at the thought. No, his days of important duties were long gone. That was for certain. And so, it was with much reluctance that he lifted himself to his feet and dressed, not bothering to amend his bedraggled appearance for the trek downstairs.

Soft murmurings drifted towards him as he neared the kitchen, and he paused in the hallway just outside it to better hear what the voices were saying.

"He does nothing all day! Sleeps till noon, mopes around the house, snaps at everyone."

"Molly, you know how hard these past few years have been for him…"

"We've all had rough times! That is no excuse, Remus, and you know it!"

Sirius grimaced and debated turning around again and climbing back into bed. But this was his house, he reminded himself. And with that thought, he pushed open the door with what was perhaps a bit more force than was necessary and gave the two occupants of the kitchen a toothy grin, taking some satisfaction from the startled looks he received.

"Oh, hello. Didn't know you two were coming over for breakfast. Did I interrupt anything?" he asked in mock concern. "Please, do go on. I'll just be over here moping."

And with that, Sirius moved languidly to the cupboard where he grabbed himself a bowl and then began to scoop out some oatmeal into it that had been sitting in a pot on the stove. No doubt Molly had brought it over. He could almost _feel_ her searing stare on the back of his head but ignored it as he poured a copious amount of sugar into the bowl and stirred.

He heard the indignant huff followed by the opening and closing of the kitchen door. Sure enough, Molly was nowhere to be seen when he finally turned around and took a seat at the kitchen table, bowl in hand.

"She's right you know," Remus said finally, breaking the silence.

Sirius ignored him, focusing instead on the oatmeal he was currently pushing around. He took a bite and had to silently commend Molly once again for her impressive culinary skills. That did not, however, stop him from thinking of her as a nagging old bother of a woman who had problems minding her own damn business.

"Moping," he muttered to himself, taking care to stab the oatmeal before him with particular vehemence. _What does she know about anything…_

"It's not good for you to stay cooped up here like you do, Sirius," Remus tried again, crossing his arms from where he leaned against the counter. A genuine look of concern for his friend encompassed his features. Sirius, however, met his eyes with a sharp glare.

"Oh?" he asked, a note of derisiveness in his deep voice. "And what do you suggest, dear friend? Should I go out there," he pointed in the direction of the house's entrance, "where they cower from me in fear and disgust? Where they hide their children when they see my face? Where I'm in danger any moment of having a Ministry member rescind the pardon and throw me right back into Azkaban?"

His eyes were darker now. Anger coursed through him as it always did when this subject came up. Remus, true to his nature, appeared as calm and collected as ever, letting Sirius go on with his tirade without the slightest hint of protest. And go on he did.

"You know nothing of what you speak," Sirius snapped. "I am as much a prisoner out there as I am in here. At least here I can go five minutes without a glare. Though that's quickly being amended thanks to Molly. Perhaps I'll move to Antarctica. What do you think, Remmy? Sound like a plan?"

"You wouldn't last a second in the cold," Remus replied without missing a beat. His mouth turned up at the corners a bit as Sirius merely snorted and returned to his meal. A silence fell over them both before Remus chanced to speak again.

"You know," he said, softer this time, "she's just concerned about you. We all are. If it were James telling you this, you would—"

"James isn't here!" Sirius said sharply, cutting Remus off before he could continue. His body had tensed and there was fury in his stormy gray eyes. "If he was, do you think I'd be like this in the first place? Not something you learned in your books, _Professor_?"

The word was spat out mockingly as Sirius clenched his jaw, never losing the heated expression that had crossed his face at the mere mention of James. Remus held his stare and there was something sad in his eyes, something like pity, as the silence thickened. Sirius saw it and immediately tore his gaze away, disgusted and feeling lower than he had in quite some time. He slid the bowl of oatmeal that had by now gone cold away from him and rose from the table in one fluid motion, refusing to meet his friend's eyes as he did so.

"I'm going back to bed," he said, glowering as he pushed his way through the kitchen door to once again disappear into the shadowy depths of his bedroom.

Remus watched him go, shoulders slumping a bit as Sirius' form disappeared from view. He had tried to help him. Was always trying to help him. But the fact of the matter was that Sirius just didn't _want_ to be helped. And that hurt Remus more than anything. Watching his best friend sink deeper and deeper into solitude and depression was one of the hardest things he'd ever been through. But things just hadn't been the same after James and Lily died…

"I miss them too, you know," Remus said quietly into the empty kitchen.

Sighing, he turned to go, and as he made his way to the front door, he couldn't help but glance upward into the gloom of the stairwell of Grimmauld Place. And again he found himself wishing for there to be a way to change Sirius for the better. To get him to enjoy life the way he used to.

But that, Remus knew, would require a miracle. And miracles were one thing they were all running a bit short on these days. Another sigh escaped his lips, and with one last glance up the staircase, Remus was out the door, leaving the home as quiet and still as a tomb in his wake.

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Most days she can fake it. Most days no one suspects a thing.

Most days she's on time.

"I'm here!" Kate cried, barging through the café's entrance with heavy breaths and carelessly upswept hair. She was already tugging out her apron from the bag on her shoulder before she'd even reached the counter. Behind it, a thin, sharp-eyed woman with spiky blond hair was waiting with arms crossed.

"I think the entire United bloody Kingdom is now aware of that, thanks Kate," she said, trying to hide her wry smile. "You should announce it again though, just in case the Irish missed it."

"Sod off," Kate replied with a frown, struggling with the tie at her back.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your boss? No wait…I've got a better one. Is that any way for a _late employee_ to talk to her boss?"

A cringe quickly replaced Kate's irritated expression. "You're right. I'm sorry Sam," she said with a half-sigh. "I had to stay late at the theater again last night. I didn't mean to sleep in, I swear, it's just my stupid, bloody alarm clock, the damn thing never—"

"Kate, _relax_," Sam said with a slight laugh. "I was only having a go. I can count the number of times you've been late on one hand." The blond rolled her eyes and grabbed a dishrag, wiping off the already gleaming café counter. "Besides, it's not like your services are direly needed this very brightest of mornings." Her sardonic tone was coupled with a short nod in the direction of the rest of the small shop, which was, like most days, decidedly empty save for one or two of the die hard regulars.

Kate surveyed the scene with another short sigh and tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear. "No, I suppose not," she agreed quietly.

It seemed the shop was attracting a steadily lower amount of patrons with each day that passed, no doubt easily explained by the increase in larger, more popular businesses that had opened up around them. And yet even with the lack of customers and extremely sparse pay, Kate loved the small shop and its friendly atmosphere. Yes, it was small and unremarkable in every way, but it had found a place inside her heart since she'd taken up her friend Sam's offer of employment eight months ago.

"Drink that," a voice interrupted her musings, followed by a clinking sound. Kate turned, catching Sam's gesture towards a steaming cup she'd just placed on the counter for her. "You look dead on your feet. It'll help."

Kate smirked humorlessly, moving to a seat at the counter and wrapping her hands around the warm cup. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse. I was being kind," Sam replied with an easy half-smile. She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned back against the shelves lined with displays of decorative tins of coffee and teas. Kate let out a soft snort and brought the cup of tea to her lips.

Peppermint. Sam knew her too well.

"Why are you even still working for that git?" her friend asked, brows furrowing in a movement clearly displaying the fact that the subject perplexed her. "This is the third night in a row he's made you stay late."

"Fourth, actually," Kate corrected as she recalled the past week with a poorly contained grimace. "And you know I don't have much of a choice. Max has been a family friend for ages. He needed the favor." Kate frowned down at her cooling tea, tracing the lip of the cup with her finger. "And the pay's decent. I can't afford to quit."

"_Maximus the Magnanimous_," Sam snorted derisively. "What a joke. Who even _goes_ to magic shows anymore?"

"The turnouts aren't that great," was Kate's quiet admittance. It was the truth. People didn't seem to be much inclined to watch magic tricks these days. The fact that the theater Max performed most of his shows in had seen better days certainly didn't help. Nor did the slightly dodgy neighborhood it was located in.

"Which is exactly why he's been keeping everyone late these past few nights," Kate went on. "Wants to spice up the show. Throw in some new tricks. He was even talking about bringing in a lion last night," she said, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Sodding _hell_, did you talk him out of it?" Sam's eyes widened in fright.

"Tried to. He wasn't having it."

"He better bloody well be having it!" Sam exclaimed, anger darkening her expression. "That man is going to get you all killed."

Kate let her hand drop and gave her friend a placating stare. "Look, it's not a big deal, Sam. Do you really think anyone would give Max a lion? Even if he wanted one, there's no way he could do it." She sighed and leaned her cheek on her palm. "Honestly, at this point I'd rather face a lion than have to spend another night at that drafty, old theater 'till three in the morning."

A bright ringing sound lit the small shop, signaling the entrance of a customer, and Kate glanced up at the mirror behind the counter rather than turning around to observe them. A tall form…a flash of golden hair. She inhaled sharply at the sight, her body tensing and heart hammering violently against her chest. Quickly, she whirled around, hope and dread filling every inch of her as her eyes studied the man more intently.

Only a fraction of a moment had passed. The man faced them more fully as he shrugged out of his coat and headed towards a table. And already her heart rate was dropping back down to its normal pace.

It wasn't him.

She barely noticed when Sam moved from behind the counter to take his order. All she could do was turn back around and stare at her tea blankly.

God, what an idiot she was. Of course it wouldn't be him. Why would he try to find her? He'd made it pretty abundantly clear that he wasn't interested. Mortifying flashes of memory tore through her thoughts. Showing up at his door in the middle of the night, rain-soaked and full of hope and built-up courage and all the things she was finally, _finally_ brave enough to say.

She could still see the pity in his eyes. How his face tightened in poorly concealed embarrassment for her and the situation. They'd had some fun, he'd said. Let's just leave it at that, he'd told her.

Her disbelieving silence had been broken only by the sound of a faint, feminine giggle sounding out from some distant bedroom of the luxurious flat.A very familiar giggle. One she'd heard every day at the posh office building that had once been her place of employment.

_Idiot._

"You're still doing that, then, huh?" Sam's voice sounded from before her once more.

Kate quickly wiped the pain from her face, but didn't bother looking up. What was she supposed to say? Yes, she was still mistaking random strangers for the man who'd ripped her heart into a billion tiny little indistinguishable pieces? Yes, she was still hopelessly, moronically, in _love_ with that man? Yes, she thought about him more than anyone had a right to think about someone who had crushed them so very thoroughly?

She opted for silence.

"He's not worth it, Kate. He never was."

A glance upward showed her Sam's expression, uncharacteristically soft and concerned. It was too much to look at for very long, so she turned away again, this time towards the shop's windows. Kate didn't want pity. That was why she tried as hard as she did to keep her emotions safely tucked away where prying eyes couldn't see. This wasn't about getting other people to feel sorry for her. This was about her trying to find something that would rid her of the disease that was _him_. And that was a struggle she had to cope with on her own.

Even _if_ it was a losing battle and always had been.

A hand was suddenly placed on hers where it rested on the gleaming countertop. Sam leaned down until Kate was forced to meet her stare.

"I mean it. Not worth it at all," she repeated, quiet but firm.

Again, Kate said nothing. But if she had, it would have been a statement borne of the ache she'd become so very, very used to. An ache that was almost as familiar as the simple act of breathing and just as inescapable.

_Try telling my heart that._

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**AN: Reviews are love! Thanks for reading. :) **


	2. Where the Sidewalk Ends

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended. Also, the title of the first chapter is taken from a Sylvia Plath poem. And this chapter's title is from one of Shel Silverstein's. Who is pretty awesome. That is all. :D

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She wanted to kill him.

If Max told her to smile _one more time…_

"Kate, do I need to go get a dictionary and read to you the definition of _smile_? Because what you're currently doing is an insult to the term," the magician snapped, still speaking in his pseudo-intellectual tone of voice as though there was an actual audience to perform for in the rows of tattered theater seats.

There wasn't. Because everyone remotely sane was at home and in bed at this hour.

The glower she sent the thin man in reply was most decidedly _not_ a smile. Max straightened to his full height (which wasn't much), as though daring her to challenge him. If this was any other time, Kate might have laughed at the sight of him in his bright and ridiculously garish costume, staring her down like he was Emperor of the world. But this wasn't any other time. Kate barely had enough energy to _stand_, let alone laugh.

"Max, this is ridiculous," she said, lifting a hand to her neck to rub at the sore muscles, grimacing. "We've gone over this routine twenty times already tonight."

"It's _Maximus_," he corrected sharply, his eyes turning to irritated slashes. "Staying in character is key, Kate. It's called being professional." His eyes trailed over her form, lip curling scornfully in an action that briefly revealed his blindingly white teeth. "But then I suppose I shouldn't be very surprised at your lack of concern over _that_. Especially given what occurred at your last place of employment."

The words struck Kate like a wrecking ball to the chest.

Surely something _had_ struck her. It would explain the way there was no longer air in her lungs.

"You don't want to lose yet _another_ job, do you?" she heard him ask bitingly, unaware or perhaps uncaring of her frozen state. Even if she'd been able to speak, she couldn't have. If she spoke now, she would cry. She couldn't cry. She _couldn't. _

And so, rather than tears, flashes of memory obscured her vision. Mutely, she stared off at nothing and shook her head in a gesture that was so faint it almost wasn't there at all.

"Then I expect a better performance next time. See that it happens, would you?" he said dryly, not bothering to wait for an answer before turning and exiting the stage with quick, steady steps, removing his jacket and muttering under his breath as the darkness swallowed him.

Only with his absence could Kate breathe properly again. And with the newly reinstated air, she made a low, angry sound directed at no one but herself. Honestly, why had she just _stood _there? Why didn't she say anything back to that ingrate of a man?

_Coward_.

Disgusted, Kate made her way backstage to her dressing room, heels echoing loudly in the empty corridors. Her movements were quick and angry when she finally slumped into her chair and began the involved process of taking off the heavy makeup she suddenly hated even _more_ now if that were even remotely possible.

"Professional," she muttered, pulling back her hair with a scowl as she recalled Max's sneering little face and fondly fantasizing about ramming her fist into it. "Professional _arse_ is what you are."

She held on to her anger fiercely. Like a lifeline. Anger was good. Anger kept her from feeling other things. It kept her from _thinking_ other things. Like how Max might have had a point. How she'd been a complete, utter, unprofessional _fool_ for ever falling for her boss, of all people. Just look where that had gotten her.

Here.

"You still here, Kate?"

The voice was unexpected, but her body relaxed when she glanced up from her dressing table to see Marvin Dawes, a short, bespectacled old man with graying hair and kind eyes. It was his job to clean up backstage each night and make sure things were ready for the show the next day. Kate cleared her throat, doing her best to rid her expression of all moroseness before smiling faintly at the old stagehand. She'd grown rather fond of him since coming here. He was probably the only genuine thing about this job.

"Yeah, I was just cleaning up. Organizing my things," she replied. "I'll be out of here in a minute."

"It's late. You walking home again?" Marvin asked, a touch of concern in his voice. "You want me to walk with you?"

Kate smiled softly at him. "No, that's all right. Really, Marv, I'll be fine," she said, trying to erase his slightly worried expression. "I've been walking home this late nearly every night. Don't worry about me."

"Well…alright," he said, still looking unsure. "You just be careful then, yeah? Not safe for a girl to be out by herself at this hour."

"I will. Thanks Marvin. I'll see you tomorrow then, okay?"

"Alright. Night Kate," he said, smiling.

"Night." She watched him shuffle off and sighed softly as she turned back to her dressing table. Another night over and done with. This was by far her favorite time of the day, when the makeup and costume came off and she transformed back into her true self. A much plainer self, yes…but a true one.

Her chocolate brown eyes met their mirror counterparts, and she studied herself in the rather dingy looking glass. Plain features. Long, chestnut brown hair. Average frame. She wondered, and not for the first time, if it was her appearance that had pushed him away. Made him lose interest. Or perhaps there hadn't been any interest to begin with…

Quickly, she blinked back the tears that threatened to form at the thought. And once again she became angry with herself, only this time it was for acting like a heartbroken, weepy teenager. She wasn't a girl anymore. This was life and this was how things were. Period. There was no use in crying about it.

Which, really, was easier said than done.

With one last glance around, she grabbed her bag and coat and weaved her way through the corridors behind the stage until she came to the back entrance. There was a distinct chill in the night air, and a light breeze swept over the empty parking lot as she crossed it, pulling her coat a bit tighter around her. Her flat wasn't too far from the theater, but the trek always seemed longer this time of night. The sidewalks were deserted and dark clouds passed slowly over a sickle moon, leaving very little light to lead her way. She glanced up at them and made a face.

_Great, _she thought bitterly. _More rain. Just what we need._

The streets were still wet from the downpour the night before. Sometimes she wondered whether London was the best place for her to live. Always gloomy. Always dismal. Didn't exactly do wonders for her mood.

Hugging her arms tighter around herself, Kate let her mind start to wander again as she walked at a brisk pace. She was just passing by one of the many alleys that littered the way back to her flat when a loud crash rang through the night air before something small and fast sped right over her feet, effectively startling her to a complete stop. Instinctively, she jumped back with a small shriek and prepared to defend herself when an old tin trashcan rolled out from the alley. It was only then her eyes took in the culprit of the sudden commotion.

An orange cat was streaking across the street, disappearing quickly into yet another alleyway with impressive speed. A whoosh, and the air escaped from her lungs, turning into a shaky laugh as she willed her speeding heart to slow.

"Bloody cats," she murmured. She resumed walking, though now her pace was a bit quicker than it had been before. All she wanted to do was get home, take a nice bath, and fall asleep.

All was silent for a while. The only sound to be heard was her heels clicking softly against the cracked concrete. A glance at her surroundings told her there was only about a block or so left to go.

And then Kate heard a noise that made her freeze and tense up in fear.

Footsteps behind her. And they were running.

Fast.

She whirled around, eyes widening when she saw two rather huge men coming at her with alarming speed. So sudden was the change in the atmosphere, she stood utterly frozen in place for the second time that evening, only this time it was fear that held her there, not pain. The men noticed her, their furious strides slowing noticeably as though they, too, were surprised by her presence blocking their path down the otherwise deserted sidewalk. Confusion was beginning to seep in with the fear. Why did these two, _much_ larger men seem apprehensive all of a sudden?

"They've cut us off!" she heard one hiss to the other.

The confusion grew. Who was they?

"_Confringo_!" another voice far behind the two men cried, cutting her thoughts short and thrusting the scene into action once more. Kate didn't have time to wonder about the strange sounding word, because it was accompanied by a bright red flash of light that briefly illuminated the street in its glow. She gasped, finally startled out of her frozen state, watching wide-eyed as one of the burly men just barely dodged the red streak.

"We've got to leave, they outnumber us!" the other one said sharply, clearly in a small state of panic. "Do it now! As many as you can."

"_Inveniorum!"_ his companion shouted in compliance, aiming something towards the unseen pursuers. Another flash lit up the night, followed by a muffled curse.

Until now, Kate had watched, slack jawed and frozen, desperately trying to make sense of the situation. But when the men turned once more towards her, sense was the very last thing she was worried about. One of them quickly raised something small and thin in the air, something that looked very much like a smooth, straight, wooden stick. The sight of it did not frighten her on its own. How could it? It was more befuddling than anything else and had she any time to think about the situation more thoroughly, she would have guessed that these people had all just recently escaped from a mental institution.

No, the stick on its own was not frightening. But paired with the look of pure malice on the man's face who now pointed it at her…

Yeah, it was pretty damn alarming.

"_Inveniorum!"_

The strange word was shouted once again, only this time it was directed at Kate. A bright, blinding blue light surged and crackled from the stick, streaking from it with horrific speed and accuracy. _Whoosh_, it went, hitting her directly in the chest with enough power to hurl her backwards, having her gasping in surprise at the sudden burning pressure inside her like a dull fire tracing a path through each and every vein. The sudden step she'd been forced to take was unfortunately placed, her heel catching on one of the many cracks in the sidewalk and effectively pitching her backwards towards the wall of the building that lined the street.

Her head made contact first, a swift _crack_ against the brick. A sharp, bright pain as she slumped to the floor. Her body was motionless on the damp sidewalk, and yet somehow she still felt as though she were falling, even as her eyes continued to gaze upward at the blurry moon that hung in the night sky above her. She blinked once, slowly. Two faint pops sounded from somewhere around her, but the buzzing in her ears was quick to overwhelm anything else she might hear that would explain the strange noises. Her lids, heavy, moved to close again against the pain.

And closed they remained.

Just ahead, two cloaked figures were slowing their pounding steps to a stop.

"_Damn it_," Remus Lupin cursed, breathing heavily as he stared at the place where the two men they'd been pursuing had just disappeared from. He had yet to notice the girl, still much too overcome with adrenaline and disappointment over the sudden loss of their hunt. Beside him, a pink-haired witch was bent over at the knees and clutching at a stitch in her side with panting breaths.

"Fuck's sake, I'm not cut out for this foot chase stuff," she breathed, wincing. "Why couldn't it have been on brooms…"

"Quit your whinging, Tonks," a third wizard said thinly, catching up to the other two. He was also holding his side, but for a different reason entirely. "You're not the one who got bloody hit—"

"Remus! Look!" Tonks cried suddenly, cutting off the remark as her wide eyes finally caught sight of a slumped form just ahead. Remus turned quickly, gripping his wand tighter as though preparing for another attack. But it only took a moment for him to process what he was now seeing. Instantly, his features paled.

"Oh no…"

Three long strides and he was at the girl's side, crouching and immediately sweeping his eyes over her form, checking for injuries. His hand reached behind her head, encountering something sticky. When he pulled back, his fingers glistened a dark red in the moonlight.

"Was she hit?" Tonks asked, alarmed and at his side immediately.

"You saw the bloody light, didn't you?" the other wizard asked, irritated but joining Remus and Tonks in their study of the unidentified woman. "What, do you think he cast it at the wall? Course she was hit."

"A bit tetchy tonight, aren't we Lionel?" Tonks replied, shooting the man the very briefest of glares. Her eyes were drawn back to the woman, her study becoming more thorough; catching tiny details she'd missed before. And then…an alarming realization.

"Good lord, she's a Muggle!"

Lionel peered with keener interest at this outburst, eyes flitting to Remus. "Is she…?"

"Knocked out," was Lupin's quiet reply. "Must have hit her head on the way down." He sighed, raising a hand to rub at the back of his scarred neck, fingers digging into the skin harder than necessary. As though trying to help loosen the blood flow to his brain to make sense of the situation more quickly. His motions paused when a question came to his lips.

"You were hit too weren't you?" he asked, looking to Lionel. The other man nodded as his hand went to his stomach almost involuntarily, feeling a phantom ache.

"Wasn't very effective, whatever it was. Felt strange though," Lionel replied with a bit of a frown.

"What was it?" Tonks asked, keeping her eyes glued to Remus, knowing if anyone could recognize the strange spell it'd be him.

"Inveniorum is a tracking spell." The words were said simply, though there was no mistaking the hard look that overtook Lupin's features. He was worried.

"Do you know how to break it?" She crouched beside him, the words coming from her quietly as though fearing the answer.

"No," he admitted, confirming those fears in a quiet of his own. Lupin's eyes shut briefly, immersing him deeper into thoughts that worked at light speed to come up with some sort of solution. When they opened again, his blue depths were the color of a troubled sea. "It's intricate. Complicated. It could take days…weeks."

A low curse hissed from Lionel. "Why the bloody hell would they do that?" he asked, clearly incensed by this information and the realization that Dark wizards now held information about him at their disposal. "They could have fired something that would have caused a bit more damage, don't you think?"

"I think what they've done is more damaging than you realize," Remus replied, deep in thought again and not bothering to spare the other man a glance.

"Grimmauld Place is protected. Even if they followed me there, they wouldn't be able to get in," Lionel countered stubbornly.

"No," Remus agreed, this time meeting the other man's gaze, "but they'll be able to see you coming, won't they."

It wasn't a question.

"They've rendered you useless to us. The minute you step outside protected boundaries you'll turn into a beacon. They'll see you from miles away. Where you go, who you talk to, when you get too close." Remus sighed, tired and heavy. "Or maybe they're trying to pick us off one by one."

"What do we do with her, Remus?" Tonks asked, quietly interrupting the two men's conversation as her eyes returned to the woman.

"Obliviate her," Lionel cut in, as if it were obvious. His features were still contorted into an expression of the utmost aggravation.

"We can't," Remus responded, shooting him a look. "They've obviously mistaken her for one of us. If we leave her, they could come back and kill her."

"And what, then, do you suggest we do about it?" Lionel inquired dryly. "Might I remind you she's a Muggle."

Remus bit back a sigh of frustration. "She's hurt. We can't just leave her. We'll have to…bring her back and figure it out there." Even he sounded unsure. Reluctant.

"Remus…" Tonks began, her words fading meaningfully.

"I know," he said, avoiding her gaze. "But we don't have a choice."

And as though unwilling to waste any more time out in the open, especially with two people under a potentially dangerous tracking spell, Remus lifted the woman in his arms and Apparated with a loud _pop_ cutting through the thick, dark night; Tonks and Lionel quick to follow.

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The door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place burst open violently as Remus came striding through it with the unconscious girl in his arms. Almost immediately, Mrs. Black began screeching from her portrait, shouting obscenities that carried through the entire house. A quick nod from Remus moved Tonks and Lionel forward ahead of him to do their best at quieting the cantankerous woman. But Sirius had quickly appeared from the hallway leading into the kitchen already, looking distinctly annoyed at all the racket.

"Bloody _hell,_ what's going—"

His words stopped short as his eyes took in Remus, widening when they saw the girl in his arms.

"What is that?" he asked sharply, looking quite alarmed.

"It's a woman, Sirius," Remus replied dryly, shifting the girl in his arms and starting to move past his friend to go upstairs. Sirius' alarm turned to aggravation at this.

"I know it's a bloody woman, what I meant was what is she doing here?" he bit out, catching Remus by the arm just as he'd placed a foot on the first step. He looked down at the woman's appearance, taking in her clothes and suddenly becoming quite alarmed again.

"Good god, is she a _Muggle_?" he sputtered.

"Yes," Remus said calmly.

He shrugged off Sirius' hand and once more attempted to climb the stairs. He only got halfway before Sirius' initial shock at hearing this information wore off.

"Remus, stop right now and tell me what the hell is going on!" Sirius said, voice harsh and angry. Remus paused on the stairwell and bit back an impatient sigh.

"Sirius, she's hurt. I need to get her to a bed, so I'm taking her into one of the guest rooms," he replied, his voice becoming slightly hard as well. Sirius response to this was to look even more irate than before.

"You are not!" he cried. "This is MY house and I'm not going to let some…_Muggle_ in here."

Remus raised his eyebrows a bit and spoke wryly. "I never pegged you as being so high-minded, Padfoot," he said. "New development is it?"

Sirius glared dangerously. "Do you realize where you are? How do you know what her ties are? She could be working for the other side. Have you lost your bloody _mind_?" he said, voice rising with each word in indignation.

Remus growled under his breath and once again resumed his trek upstairs, ignoring Sirius' disbelieving look. "I can't deal with this right now. I'll tell you everything when I have a chance after I've settled her in. Do me a favor, make yourself useful and get some water for her. Dora…find Molly. Tell her to come right away."

"Got it, Remus," Tonks replied, exiting out the front door quickly. A faint pop was the only indication of her departure.

"Settled her…?" Sirius' words trailed off in disbelief as he watched Remus disappear upstairs.

"Daft as a loon, that one," Lionel offered with a nod towards the place Remus had been only seconds before. He turned away to amble off toward the drawing room to get a drink, shaking his head. "Honestly, bringing a Muggle in here…"

He left Sirius behind, whose dark form still stood at the foot of the stairs, numbly agape. Above him, Remus' muffled footsteps as he tended to the Muggle stranger signaled the beginning of a shift in the house's atmosphere, as though it was adjusting to the sudden change that had occurred in the last few tense and harried moments.

And he hated it already.

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When you have as many children as Molly Weasley (and most of them boys, at that), you learn a thing or two about handling head injuries.

When she finally arrived at Grimmauld Place, it took her less than a minute to take charge of the situation, shoving Remus aside so she could see what the damage was and tend to the unconscious Muggle woman. Sirius had decided to sulk silently in the kitchen away from all of the commotion, his already dark mood turning perceptibly darker. His patience was wearing thin. No one had bothered explaining the situation to him yet, or why the woman was even here in the first place.

"Of course not. Why would they? It's only my bloody house and all that…" he muttered under his breath as he paced the room.

"You've really got to get this talking to yourself thing under control, Padfoot."

Sirius stopped mid-stride when Remus' voice interrupted his thoughts, watching with a frown as his friend entered the room and tiredly moved to a seat at the table. He hadn't even taken his coat off yet, and in typical Lupin fashion it was faded and torn in places, a reflection of the sandy-haired man who wore it.

"And who do you suggest I talk to instead?" Sirius came back with dry irritation. "Unless I'm mistaken, and I'm not, no one's bothered to tell me a damned thing."

"Forgive me for being a bit preoccupied until now," Remus' voice held an edge that was uncharacteristic of him. It was very telling of the stress he was currently under, and it was also what caused Sirius to lift a dark brow at his friend. Remus saw it and sighed.

"It's been a long night, Sirius," he went on, his tone adopting its usual calm tenor now. "A long, disastrous night."

"What happened?" Sirius asked quietly, though his body remained tense.

"We came upon two of them. Caught them by surprise, I think. They panicked and ran for it, so naturally we chased them."

"And the woman?" Sirius asked. "How'd she get involved in all this?"

"She was alone. On her way home, I presume," Remus responded, still calm, though he was looking more and more exhausted. "They must have mistaken her for one of us in the panic and fired a spell at her. She hit her head on the way down."

Sirius clenched his jaw and turned his head away, trying not to let his temper grip him again. It should have worried him how easily he was able to slip into a state of anger these days. But he'd long since stopped caring about runaway emotions.

"Well that's a crying shame and all that, Remus, really, but why in God's name did you bring her _here_ of all places? You could have easily dropped her off at some Muggle hospital or something…"

Remus bit back another sigh and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming along. It didn't help that the next full moon was steadily approaching. "She was hit with a tracking spell," he finally said as he dropped his hand and met Sirius' gaze with a steady one of his own. "An inconveniently difficult and complicated tracking spell. If I'd left her there or taken her to a hospital, they would have found her. This was the only place that was protected enough to prevent that from happening."

"Tracking spell?" Sirius asked, astonished and momentarily forgetting his previous anger. "But…why?"

"Lionel was hit too." Remus stared off at nothing, clearly deep in thought as he mused, brows furrowed. "It was like they'd planned beforehand on casting it if they were ever in a tight situation. We outnumbered them. They wouldn't have gotten away if they'd stayed to fight. And we weren't exactly giving them time to be concentrated enough to Apparate, so they did the next best thing, really. Took out two of us with a spell that would effectively weaken our forces. Or what they thought was two of us, anyway," he added with a frown.

Sirius looked aghast. "Well can you break it?"

"I don't know," Remus replied, looking grim. "I'll have to do some further research, obviously, but even without that I know it'll take weeks. Tracking spells are almost impossible to break when someone other than the one who cast it is doing the breaking."

"_Weeks_?" Sirius nearly spluttered. "Are you telling me that she has to stay here until you can break it?"

"They can't find her here, Sirius," was Remus' tired reply. "You know as well as I do that any Dark wizard isn't going to ask questions about who they're killing. If they believe she's one of us, which they do, then they'll have the element of surprise thanks to this spell. Of course they'd take advantage of that."

"Remus," Sirius began, placing his hands on the table opposite him and leaning forward, his grey eyes storming, "you don't even _know_ this woman. And she's a Muggle on top of everything else! How do you suppose she'll react when she wakes up and discovers she's in a house full of people who call themselves wizards and oh! By the way, love, you can't leave," he flashed his teeth in an insincere smile that vanished almost as instantly as it had appeared. "Do you have any idea how big of a problem this is?"

Remus had kept his stare sober as Sirius had went on his tirade, but now there was something hard and distant in his gaze. "I'm well aware of the enormity of the problem, Sirius," he replied quietly. "But it's our fault this happened to her in the first place, no matter how inadvertent. The fact that she's a Muggle changes nothing. Have you really forgotten what it is we've been fighting for all these years? When exactly was it you'd lost your heart completely, friend?"

The last statement brought with it a heavy silence in the room. Remus could almost see the walls come crashing down around Sirius, barricading him off from everything around him. The dark-haired man straightened, his gaze turning cold and hard. He knew exactly when he'd lost his heart. He could even have told Remus the very moment the loss had occurred. He'd all but handed it away right along with the piece of advice he'd given his very dearest of friends that day. The advice that would ultimately lead to their deaths.

"I'm sorry," Remus cut in with another sigh, regret lining his tone. He looked at Sirius in a way that hinted he knew what was going through his friend's mind right now. "I didn't mean that."

"I may not have a heart. But at least I still have some common sense," Sirius said, his expression still dark as he ignored the apology. "Something all of you seem to be losing more and more of these days. This situation will turn into a bigger problem than it's bloody worth, mark my words."

And with that, he abandoned the kitchen with a quiet scoff of disgust, desperately needing to be alone right now. Remus' frustrated stare went completely ignored.

Deep down, Sirius knew he didn't truly mean what was implied behind his last statement. Deep down, he knew the woman was an innocent in all this and couldn't sensibly be held accountable for the events that had placed her here. Deep down, Sirius Black really did have a heart.

But deep was a long way down.

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AN: The spell and Lionel are of my own creation, just fyi. And whee! Chapter two! Hope you enjoyed. :) Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Comments are deeply appreciated! Have a great day guys.


	3. Grim Old Place

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended with this story.

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Pacing had become one of Sirius' fondest pastimes.

Alright, so perhaps _fondest_ wasn't exactly the most accurate of descriptions for it, but the act certainly beat sitting still in one spot for any length of time. If he did that, he'd go stir-crazy, and it wasn't like he really needed help doing that in the first place. Grimmauld Place was as stuffy and gloomy as ever despite Molly's heroic attempts to clean it. Even _clean,_ the place carried with it an inherent bleakness. One that would not be conquered by soaps and suds.

Only Sirius knew how infectious—yes, like a disease—the grim atmosphere really was, for only he had spent nearly each and every day immersed in it. Nor did it help that unpleasant memories of his youth, a youth spent within these very walls, plagued him at every turn. He'd thought he'd escaped once…back when he was sixteen. He thought he'd escaped and that he'd never have to return again.

Funny how life throws things right back at you.

Here he was, after all. Slowly treading the floor of his old bedroom. Restless was something he'd grown quite used to feeling as of late, but it was agitation and anger that fueled his constant state of movement now. The distant sound of the murmured conversation taking place between Remus and Molly echoed from down below—no doubt discussing the newest addition to the household. Sirius grimaced, annoyed with both the sound of the chatter and its likely subject matter. So much so, he came to the sudden decision that his room was not a decent enough location for solitude. The attic would be better. More space anyway. And certainly well out of reach of any disagreeable noise.

The hall was dim, and his determined strides echoed loudly on the walls around him as he made his way to the stairs. He'd almost reached them, too, when he passed an open door and something on the periphery of his vision slowed him to a halt. Taking two backward steps, Sirius stared into the room and grew quite still when he realized what it was he was looking at.

He shouldn't have cared. He should have just kept walking and effectively closed himself off from this whole mess like he'd wanted. And yet somehow his feet seemed to move of their own accord, bringing him further into the dim room with slow, careful steps.

Upon the bed lay the Muggle woman, her head turned to one side, resting gently on the pillow. Perhaps it was curiosity getting the better of him, but whatever the case, Sirius couldn't seem to help the way he moved closer to study her more intently.

There wasn't much he could tell, really. She was pale, but that easily could have been due to the injury she'd sustained. Her dark hair was thus a sharp contrast to her skin, long and looking like it reached well past her shoulders. His study of it was interrupted when a glint of gold drew his eyes to her neckline where a small charm rested on a thin, delicate chain. It was hard to tell from this angle but it sort of looked like the letter K…

And then the unthinkable happened.

She stirred.

Sirius froze, his body turning rigid as if he feared any movement whatsoever would help waken her. But it turned out she didn't need any help. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking a few times as though clearing her vision. Her brows drew together, whether from pain or confusion he didn't know. And he didn't have time to wonder because she suddenly seemed to realize that she wasn't alone in the unfamiliar room.

With a gasp, she backed up against the headboard, staring at him wide-eyed and panicked. In one swift movement, she leapt from the bed, blindly grabbing an object off the nightstand and backing up towards the wall in a clear attempt to place as much distance between them as possible. Sirius hadn't moved an inch, too stunned that she was actually awake, but now his eyes moved to the item she held in her hand like a weapon.

It was a book.

"Stay back!" she cried desperately, wielding the leather-bound item and holding it high above her head in what Sirius could only assume was a battle stance. His response to the events that were now transpiring was to raise a brow in amused disbelief.

And then he laughed.

Honestly, a _book_?

"What are you going to do, read me a bedtime story?" he asked aloud, briefly flashing his teeth in a crooked grin, clearly unaffected by her implied threat.

"Who are you?" she demanded, ignoring his jibe and stubbornly retaining her death grip on the book in her hand. Her dark eyes flashed even in the dim light of the dusty room. "Where am I? Why did you bring me here?"

Of course he could have calmly answered those questions and attempted to allay her fears. But Sirius was finding all of this inexplicably amusing somehow. And so he prolonged it.

"I didn't realize we were playing twenty questions," he mused, still with the lilt of a smile. "You know, I'm not _entirely_ sure, but I think you're supposed to allow the person being asked the questions time to actually speak and answer each question in turn…"

"Look, if it's money you're after, I don't have any," she interrupted him hurriedly, setting her jaw, her expression hard. Like she was desperately trying to appear braver than she actually felt. "Nor do I have any wealthy relatives."

Sirius could see right through the bravado. It wasn't that difficult to tell she was nervous. Fearful. Panicked. All of those things. Which might have explained the way her next words poured from her in an almost nonsensical outrush.

"Unless you count my great Aunt Tilly, but she's old and cantankerous and I spilled a bottle of grape juice all over her Oriental rug once when I was seven and I'm pretty sure she's never forgiven me for it, because every time I see her during the holidays she makes a point of ignoring me and visibly tenses whenever I'm holding a liquid of any sort, so really, you're wasting your time."

Bloody hell, how hard did this woman hit her head? Or was she always like this? Really, it was all he could do to keep from laughing again.

Cruelly, he considered the idea of toying with her further. The situation was just so irresistibly _amusing_. It didn't help that his mood was still lingering on the bitterness he'd been feeling before, and it was the combination of these factors that led him to adapt a very casual stance, grey eyes glinting with something dangerous as they took in her form from across the room. A predatory smile slowly caught his lips.

"And what if money isn't what I'm after?" he asked quietly, an unspoken implication hidden in the words that was anything but subtle.

Her eyes widened. He watched intently as she swallowed hard and pressed her back even harder against the wall, as though she was trying to sink into it. Sirius realized quite quickly, with a mixture of frustration and mild satisfaction, that she was absolutely bloody _terrified _of him. Which he supposed was to be expected given the circumstances she'd awakened to and how he hadn't exactly been very helpful in explaining those circumstances. What he _hadn't_ expected, however, was the way his conscience seemed to kick in the moment her big, brown eyes filled with fear, bringing with it an annoying prickling of guilt.

Brilliant.

Clenching his jaw, Sirius sighed through his teeth and took a tentative step forward.

"Look, I was only joking, you don't have to be sc—_ow!_"

She'd thrown the bloody book at him.

He'd barely had time to react before her arm came back and flung the object directly at his forehead, hitting it with what was actually quite remarkable aim. She was still watching him wide-eyed and wary as he quickly lifted his palm to the injury, feeling his anger returning tenfold when he felt the sting of a small cut there.

Any and all softness faded from his expression. Baring his teeth, Sirius was just about to take yet another step towards her when a different voice rang out around the room.

"_What in Merlin's name is going on in here_?" Molly Weasley nearly screeched from the doorway, her gaze taking in the woman's fearful countenance before zeroing directly in on Sirius with sharp hostility. "Out. _Get out!_ You're scaring the poor thing to absolute death, she's white as a sheet!"

Sirius winced, wondering briefly if Molly was distantly related to a line of Banshees. The woman's voice was unparalleled. Really.

"My pleasure," he muttered in response, sparing the Muggle woman one last glare before gliding past Molly out of the room. "Bloody lunatic is what she is…" he stalked off, hissing the words out under his breath. Curious eyes followed his path from the old portraits lining the hall, but he ignored them completely, stomping up the stairs and immersing himself in the darkness that waited above, only too glad to leave the scene in the bedroom far behind.

And in that bedroom, Kate was still frozen and completely disoriented as she leaned against the wall for support.

This had to be some sort of nightmare. It _had_ to.

She'd never in her life been more confused or scared or completely at a loss for what the bloody _hell_ was going on. The only facts she was privy to were that her head felt like someone had dropped an anvil on it, she was in a dark and completely unfamiliar bedroom, and (because, really, those two things weren't horrifying enough) she'd awakened to find some strange man frowning down at her.

Nightmare.

And _alright_, maybe a book hadn't been the best means of defense, but she wasn't exactly in the right state of mind to be choosy about what object would be best suited to assist her in staying alive during a moment of utter panic. Kate didn't handle panicky situations very well. She wasn't one of those people who were able to keep calm and deal with fear in a rational manner. Instead, she froze up and was prone to babbling nonsensically.

Which in her mind was a completely justifiable reaction. Sort of. Alright, perhaps she'd made a bit of a fool of herself with her Aunt Tilly story, but she was alone and scared and he had that infuriating little smirk on his face like he was finding her fear bloody _amusing_ of all things and for all she knew he was planning on chopping her up into little pieces and feeding her to his dog who was probably the one telling him to kidnap people in the first place.

She was doing it again.

At least her ranting was in her head this time. Kate was too incapacitated with fright at the moment to really be capable of speech anymore. And that murderous glare he'd sent her before stalking out of the room did little to remedy that state.

"_Insufferable_ man," the short, red-haired woman said from where she stood in the doorway, her eyes trained off down the hallway, no doubt watching his retreat.

Kate, back still pressed tightly against the wall, studied the woman in an attempt to gauge how threatened she should be. Short, rounded, and kind-faced, the red-haired stranger didn't appear _half_ as threatening as the man had, but even Kate could see getting on her bad side wasn't a good idea. That much was clear by the fire in the woman's eyes that lingered even after the "insufferable man" had disappeared from view. But when she turned to face Kate again, it didn't take long for that fire to extinguish, replaced with something much warmer and placating.

"Oh, you poor thing, I'm so sorry you had to wake up to him. No wonder you look affright. Though of course you have reason to be scared as it is, waking up in this strange house," the woman said in a stream of words rushing together in her concerned, motherly tone. "Come here, dearie, sit down." She moved to the bed and sat, patting the spot next to her.

Kate didn't move.

"Oh, now, don't be afraid! You have nothing to fear, love. How's your head? I tried my best to bring that horrible bump down a bit. You took a rather nasty fall, I'm told." The woman folded her hands in her lap and gazed at Kate expectantly, genuine concern lining her soft, round features.

Kate's brows furrowed a bit, confused by the startling shift in the atmosphere of the room that this woman brought. It was nothing at all like it had been only moments before when the dark-haired man with the sharkish grin and haunted eyes overwhelmed the small space with his presence.

"It's…fine," she replied hesitantly. It wasn't—it actually felt bloody awful and heavy as a brick, but Kate wanted answers more than she wanted relief from the pain. "I'm sorry, you said I took a nasty fall?" she asked, and with the question came flashes of memory. "I don't really remember falling. I remember walking home and there were these strange men and words and a light…a light came out of a stick and hit me…"

The words trailed off, her cheeks burning as she realized how utterly _absurd_ she sounded right now.

"But that can't be right," she went on hurriedly, a line creasing her brow in reflection of her puzzlement. She lifted a hand to the back of her head and frowned at nothing in particular. "That fall must have messed with my memory a bit…"

Embarrassed, Kate glanced at the woman again and was a bit taken aback at the sober expression on her face. It made Kate feel uneasy again—and again, inexplicably—and suddenly the vital questions she should have been asking came once more to her lips.

"Why was I brought here?" she asked, determined to get answers this time. Her eyes swept around the dreary bedroom, the sight bringing with it that same feeling of utter bewilderment again. "Where _is_ here?"

"First of all, you're a terrible liar, dear. If you're so set on keeping that pain hidden, I would suggest wiping that wince off your face," the woman said matter-of-factly, rising from the bed in one fluid, casual motion and heading towards the door. Kate watched, eyes going wide at the comment. She hadn't even realized she'd been wincing.

"Second of all," the woman continued, "my name is Molly Weasley—_do _call me Molly—and as for your questions, I think that conversation would be better suited in a warm kitchen with a nice cup of tea, and we'll get you fed too. You must be hungry." The woman…Molly…had reached the door now, and she turned to face Kate again expectantly. "Well come on, then. That headache isn't going to fix itself you know."

She disappeared out the door, leaving Kate torn as to whether or not to follow. Reasons _to _follow of course included her pounding head and dire need for explanations. And now that she thought about it, she _was_ a bit hungry. And thirsty. And wouldn't they have killed her by now if that were their intention? Unless they really were going for the ransom angle, which Kate had already made clear would get them nowhere, unless for some reason Aunt Tilly had forgiven her, but—

"Oh, shut up you dolt and stop being such a bloody coward," Kate hissed under her breath at herself. And with that she surged forward after the woman with new resolve. The hall was almost as dim as the bedroom had been, but she barely heeded her surroundings much except to make note of how…well…_gloomy_ it was. There really wasn't any other way to describe it. Ahead, Kate caught a glimpse of fiery red hair turning the corner, and she hurried after it—missing completely the many sets of painted eyes following her progress.

When she turned the corner, a staircase came into view. Molly was already halfway down it and turned very briefly to smile encouragingly at Kate.

"The kitchen's this way, dear," she said, turning again, her steps creaking faintly on the wooden stairs. "Watch your step. Really should get more light in here, I keep telling that man this entire place is a hazard, honestly, you'd think he was a bat or something, dark as a bloody cave…" Her words turned into a mumbled string of irritated comments, most of which Kate had a hard time hearing. The place _was _dark, though. She kept her eyes on her feet as she made her way down the stairs after Molly. The last thing she needed was to trip and hit her head again.

Following Molly through another doorway, Kate halted quite abruptly when two sets of eyes settled on her.

"Oh, she's awake!"

The bright exclamation came from a young woman with shockingly pink hair and a smile that lit up her pretty face. She approached Kate with a hand outstretched, clearly about to introduce herself, but she failed to notice the small stool in her path and tripped on it. Her hand shot out to the nearby counter and only just barely managed to keep upright.

"Bloody stools," she muttered, using her foot to propel the offending thing halfway across the kitchen. When she looked back to Kate, she was smiling again, unabashedly.

"I'm Tonks," she said, offering her hand once more. Kate hesitated but found her hand clasping around the strange woman's after a moment.

"Kate," she offered quietly.

"How's your head, then? Merlin, it must be bloody painful. Remus was telling me how huge the bump was. I can't even begin to tell you how many of those I've gotten over the years, drove my mother absolutely _barmy_ with all the head injuries, course it wasn't just head injuries, it was all sorts, really. Mum wanted to hire a live-in nurse, can you believe it? Not that it wouldn't have been worth the money—"

"Tonks!" Molly's voice sharply cut off the pink-haired woman's rambling. "She's suffered enough exertion as it is without having to listen to your history of physical injuries, which I'm sure would last all afternoon. Let the poor thing sit for Merlin's sake." Molly quickly busied herself with pouring tea from a kettle near the stove and therefore missed Tonks' mild scowl. A man sitting at the table chuckled softly.

"Oh, shut it Remus," Tonks muttered, crossing her arms petulantly. But Kate was looking at the man with the torn coat and sandy hair. His face was lined with age and scars, but it was a kind face, nonetheless, and when he stood and held his hand out as well, Kate did not feel afraid.

"Remus Lupin," he said with a soft smile, though Kate couldn't help but notice that there was something hesitant about the way he regarded her. She didn't really know what to make of that, but shook his hand and once again introduced herself with quiet uncertainty.

"Remus is the one who brought you here, dear," Molly said, approaching with a steaming mug of tea. Kate was distantly aware of taking the offered drink, but she was far more invested in studying Remus with new interest. Had he seen that strange blue light too, then? But more importantly…

"Why? Why did you bring me here?" she asked, settling on that question instead. She set her tea down on the table but remained standing, brows furrowed in an expression warring with trepidation and curiosity. Inwardly, Kate decided that it was probably best if mentions of a blue light shooting out at her from a stick were kept quiet for the time being. Possible insanity wasn't her main concern right now. Details were.

Details that just so happened to grow more and more dramatic in her mind the longer they went unexplained.

"Is this a kidnapping? Is that what that whole scene was about on the street?" she went on, eyes flittering from one form to another. Panic was setting in again. "I really think you've got the wrong girl," she laughed nervously, "Just a rather unfortunate case of mistaken identity, I mean, it's not like I can blame you, that street _was_ tremendously dark but—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Remus quickly interrupted, holding up a hand to halt Kate's increasingly nervous babbling. "You've got the wrong idea entirely, Kate…may I call you Kate?"

"You haven't been kidnapped," Tonks said with a slight giggle before Kate could properly respond to Remus' question. But something shifted in the pink-haired woman's amused expression as Kate watched. Suddenly she seemed rather uncertain.

"Well…not technically, at least…"

"_Dora_," Remus hissed quickly, giving the girl an exasperated look. "You're really not helping, here."

Tonks had the decency to look mildly bashful and mumbled a quiet 'sorry' in response, though it didn't really do much to ease Kate's worries. Confused, she swung her gaze from Tonks (or was it Dora?) to Remus. Distantly, she wondered over the strangeness of the names, but Remus was speaking again before she could dwell on it.

"What I was _trying _to say," he went on, with a tired glance at Tonks, "is that you're in no danger here."

"Quite the opposite. Like I told you before, dear," Molly added with a knowing smile sent Kate's way. "You'd be in quite a bit of trouble if Remus hadn't brought you here."

Kate fixed her attention on Remus again, who seemed slightly uncomfortable at Molly's praising tone.

"I didn't have a choice," he replied, almost too quietly for Kate to hear. A heavy sigh and he was facing her with a very sober expression, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Please…sit," he indicated the empty chair in front of her with his free hand. Kate hesitated, but did as he asked, sitting rigidly in the wooden seat.

"Can you tell me what you remember from last night, Kate?" Remus asked calmly.

"Well…I'd just gotten off work and was walking home," she answered slowly. "And then I heard running behind me and saw two men…"

Flashes of the men's faces came to her. Dark with intensity and panic. Menacing. She shivered at the memory.

"I heard a shout. And then one of them lifted something and—" But she halted her words quickly, remembering the blue light again. How could she describe that without sounding like a lunatic?

"You saw something you couldn't explain," Remus offered softly, almost as though he'd read her mind.

Kate blanched and stared at him in surprise. "Well…yes, actually. How did…?"

"Those two men," Remus continued, ignoring her question for the moment, "were being pursued by Tonks, another man, and myself. We were on an assignment, and you unfortunately had the terrible luck of being caught in the middle of it." His worn features pulled briefly downward, clearly regretting this information.

"Assignment?" Kate asked, eyes flitting briefly to Tonks. "Are you policemen? Or…private detectives or something?"

Tonks chuckled, but stopped at Molly's sharp glare. Remus didn't react much at all except for a slight, humorless lift at the corner of his mouth.

"No. We're part of an organization known as The Order, and this," he swept his gaze around the wide kitchen, "is our headquarters."

Kate lifted a brow. "The Order? I've never heard of it…"

"No, you wouldn't have," Remus confirmed with a slight nod. "Very few know of our existence."

There was a short silence. And then…

"Oh God, you're a cult, aren't you?" Kate said, her features paling noticeably as her eyes went from one form to another.

Tonks laughed loudly, and even Remus couldn't help the faint grin that caught his lips. "No, Kate," he answered. "We're not a cult."

Well, that was a relief. Sort of.

"I'm…a little confused," she admitted. "What exactly are you then?"

"We're wizards," a low voice suddenly said from the doorway.

All eyes flew to the figure now casually leaning against the wall, including Kate's, who stiffened immediately at the sight of the dark-haired man from before. His shadowed eyes met hers, sending her a wink as his lips curved upwards in a smile that wasn't friendly at all.

"_Sirius_!" The voice was so harsh and sudden it made Kate jump in her chair, and when she turned to Remus, it was to find him tensed with anger; a startling change from the calm he'd been exuding previously. Kate didn't dare move or speak, but she glanced again at the object of Remus' fury.

Sirius (_another_ strange name) seemed wholly unconcerned as he lazily inspected the fingernails of his right hand.

"She was going to find out eventually, wasn't she?" he asked in a somewhat bored tone.

Remus took a deep, steadying breath but never once took his sharp glare off of the other man. "I was hoping for a more delicate approach."

Sirius heaved a heavy, dramatic sigh and dropped his hand. Suddenly his intense gaze was fixed again on Kate, though she averted her eyes almost involuntarily. "Look, she didn't even hear me. And even if she did, she's not going to believe it, like I said in the bloody first place. No harm done," he finished, his tone mildly sardonic.

Remus clenched his jaw and had to look away for a moment, clearly trying not to yell again. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with this," he said, his voice mildly laced with irritation.

"Yes, well, it's a bit difficult to brood in silence with all this incessant chattering going on, so I figured I may as well come down and speed things up a bit," Sirius replied simply with a long look at Remus. "Knowing you, Moony, giving the woman an explanation would've taken all bloody night if I hadn't shown up."

Kate felt a prickling of annoyance, and this time she had no trouble meeting Sirius' stare. "I'm right here, you know," she pointed out. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not in the room."

Sirius arched a brow and opened his mouth to speak again, but Molly cut him off.

"You're absolutely right, Kate." Molly threw a scornful glare Sirius' way. "Kate's a guest in this house, Sirius. She'll be treated with respect."

Sirius clenched his jaw. "You all seem to be forgetting the fact that this is _my_ house."

"And you seem to be forgetting your manners!" Molly snapped.

"Didn't know he had those…" Tonks murmured thoughtfully.

"_Enough_, all of you," Remus interrupted, throwing a tired look at them all. He ran a hand over his lined face and sighed deeply. "This is hardly how I envisioned this going…"

His reprimand had effectively silenced the room's occupants, and the quiet allowed Kate to get her thoughts back on track. She'd asked what The Order was. That's what started all of this. When Sirius said…

"Wait…wizards?" she asked suddenly, shooting a dubious glance at Sirius. Had she heard correctly?

Suddenly the room fell into another sort of silence altogether.

"Is that…some sort of code for something?" she asked, breaking it. Sirius began to grin again.

"Not really, love," was his infuriatingly vague reply.

Really, she was starting to get angry herself, here. Why couldn't anyone just tell her what the bloody hell was going on? This was ridiculous. And not only that, she was starting to think these people were borderline crazy.

"You know what?" she said suddenly, standing up, "It doesn't even matter. Thank you for the tea and for helping me, even though I've no bloody idea why bringing me here was at all necessary, but I can't really bring myself to care anymore, so good luck with your…Order…thing…and have a nice life. I'm going home." She gave a half-hearted wave to everyone and started for the door, only to get a few steps from her chair before Remus stopped her.

"You were hit by a blue light, do you remember?" he said, causing her to freeze mid-stride.

Of course she remembered. Sort of a difficult thing to forget, really. Slowly she turned to meet Remus' unreadable stare.

"What if I were to tell you that the light was produced by a wand?" he went on, the planes and angles of his scarred face sharpening into an expression that was very serious. "And that the light wasn't just a light, it was a spell?"

There was a moment's pause, which Kate spent narrowing her eyes at him as though trying to detect any hint of mockery in his stare. She was unable to, but that didn't stop her from resisting the information. This time it was her turn to slowly crack a grin, though it wasn't quite as confident as Sirius' had been. "I'd say you're daft."

"Told you she wouldn't believe it," Sirius said dryly from behind her.

"Believe _what_?" Kate whirled on him with a short, incredulous laugh. "Listen, I don't know who you people are, but if you think it's funny to have a go at someone who just recently suffered a head injury and woke up in a strange, completely unfamiliar, not to mention incredibly _creepy_ residence, then I really think it's time for me to leave."

Her strides towards the door were determined and quick, but all it took to stop her this time was a smooth movement from Sirius. The small step he took to place himself directly in her path, effectively blocking the room's only exit, was almost casual. Also casual was the way his hand effortlessly produced an object from the inside of his dark coat—long, thin, and terrifyingly familiar.

He raised it with a short, irritated sigh, ignoring the way Kate's sudden horror had turned her completely rigid and wide-eyed, setting his sights on a dusty, glass jar resting on one of the shelves above the kitchen counter. But Kate couldn't remove her stare from the man and the wooden item in his hand, too caught up in recollections of the previous night to begin to make sense of what was happening. Even when Sirius' gravelly rumble of a voice rang out around the room, she could only stare, watching as a flash of light shot out from the object in his hand with startling speed and accuracy. The glass jar shattered immediately when the force hit it, sending shards tinkling to the kitchen's floor.

Silence. And then…

"Still think we're daft, love?"

When she turned, it was slow, as though the shock was rushing through her very bloodstream, numbing everything it touched. Sirius was staring at her with dark satisfaction, twirling the stick in one hand with practiced ease. The motion continued even as a slight, disapproving frown caught his lips.

"And for the record, my home is not _creepy_."

Her voice, when she was capable of a response, was barely a whisper; shocked into hoarseness.

"And that's not a stick…"

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AN: Sorry for the small cliffie. I had to break the chapter up, otherwise it was going to end up being ridiculously lengthy. Also sorry for the delayed update! My writing comes in spurts and sometimes I have dry spells where nothing wants to come out. lol. Hopefully the next one won't take as long. I promise there will be more Sirius/Kate stuff soon. :D As always reviews are welcome and very much appreciated! I love hearing what you guys think so don't be shy. Thanks so much for reading!


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